


Never to Submit

by TheDramaLlama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Deception, Fantasy Racism, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pas Rape/Non-Con, Rescue, Revealations, Shitty Pasts, Slavery, Torture, slightly AU past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDramaLlama/pseuds/TheDramaLlama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the gang is captured by Red Templars in the Hinterlands, Halla'na Lavellan's companions learn more about her past than she ever planned to tell them. She is Dalish at heart, but sometimes she knows it is better to submit and wait for your opportunity than to fall clinging to your freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never to Submit

Varric groaned as his body dragged his mind back to consciousness. Damn, he felt like shit. Head throbbing, he took stock of his body, happy to realize he was still mostly in tact even if he had a thousand complaining knicks and scratches. He must’ve gone down in the fight with those rogue Templars. His eyes opened and he started, jerking up as a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shhhhhhhh, it’s ok, but you gotta be quiet.” The Inquisitor’s voice whispered in his ear and Varric breathed a sigh of relief against her hand as she released him. When he opened his eyes again to take stock of their situation, he realized rather quickly that he was stripped down to his small clothes, in some sort of cell with his back pressed against the bars of his cage and his hands cuffed behind his back. He turned to see Inquisitor Halla’na was in much the same situation in the cage next to him. The elf had managed to free herself from the manacles on one hand though they still hung from her left wrist. Her hair, which was normally braided back was loose and disheveled around her shoulders. She was pressed up against the bars to reach into his cage. Brandishing a set of lock picks, she gave him a nervous half-smile. “Turn around again so I can get your cuffs.”

Acquiescing, Varric took the opportunity to look around at the rest of the room. Tiny and Sparkler were currently occupying their own cages across the room, seemingly unconscious. At least they were alive. You didn’t go through the trouble of locking up corpses. Of course, if they were all here . . .

“We got captured.” The rogue filled him in as she once again set to work with her picks. “You were already out when they lobbed knockout grenades taking the rest of us down. Luckily, I’m kind of resistant to them with my Assassin training, but they make me extremely drowsy. I knew I wouldn’t get away even if I ran, so I pretended to pass out too.”

“Are you crazy!?” the dwarf hissed. “What if they had decided to kill us all there?! You should have run!”

“I would never have made it!” the elf hissed back at him. “Besides, this way I can help you all and we’re far more likely to escape.”  She wrestled with his cuffs a few minutes more before he heard the metal shift and the cuffs gave way. “Aha! Gotcha!”

“Inquisitor-” Varric began to speak as he turned back toward her, but she cut him off.

“There’s no time. Listen. I heard them while they were dragging us down here. We’re being kept for information. They’re gonna start interrogations when the effects of the gas wear off.”

Varric felt his blood go cold. He’d been around the spy game long enough that he knew what interrogations meant. “Well . . . shit.”

Halla’na fidgeted and looked away. “Yeah, and it’s gonna be me.”

“NO!” Varric almost shouted before he caught himself. “No! Don’t worry Twitchy, we’ll get out of this! I won’t let them take you.’

The elf just shook her head, “You’re gonna have to.” She looked at him, biting her lower lip. “Look, there’s only about eight of them here all together. We’re beneath one of the ruins in the Hinterlands, not far from where we were. I’ll distract them while you unlock everyone and get our gear. It’s in the chest by the door.” She pushed the lock picks into his hands. “After that, you can come rescue me and we’ll kill everyone in here.”

“Look, Herald, I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into! Torture ain’t pretty. There has to be another way!”

“This is the only way!” She insisted, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Bull and Dorian are still out and they dosed Dorian with magebane so he’ll be useless in a fight! That makes it three verses eight with no weapons or armor! The only way we get out of this is with a surprise attack.”

“But-”

“No Varric! This is the only way!” she hissed and looked down at the packed earth floor. “I can take it. I have before.” She turned her back to him and his mouth went dry as he saw the evidence of the heavy abuse that had been heaped upon her small frame. Silvery white scars that almost matched the color of her vallasalin stretched in lines across her back from shoulder to opposite hip. She had been whipped to within an inch of her life and Varric was felt stunned that she had even survived after something so horrific and shocked that he’d had no idea.

“Can you put my cuffs back on?” the elf crossed her arms behind her back.” If they see them like this, they’ll know something’s up.”

Numbly, Varric pulled the manacles back over her slender wrists and secured them.

She turned back to him with a worried look. “Whatever happens, whatever I do, just remember it’s not real. It’s just an act. Stick to the plan.”

“Twitchy-”

“Please Varric!”

Suddenly, Halla’na’s ears twitched and her head turned. “Someone’s coming! Act like you’re still out and keep your hands behind your back!” She hissed as she dove to the other side of her cage and crouched in the back corner looking terrified. Boot steps rang from the hallway as their captors approached and Varric lay back, closing his eyes and hoping they would just pass them by.

The door swung open with force as six of the eight Templars crowded into the dungeon. “Well, well, well, the Inquisitor herself graces us with her presence.” The apparent leader’s voice dripped with malice as he stopped in front of Halla’na’s cage. “Tell me, how do you like your accommodations? Must be nice for a knife ear like you to sleep under a roof.”

“W-what do you w-want from me?” Varric heard her voice quaver from the ground where he feigned unconsciousness. He could almost picture her cowering in the corner. Metal screeched as one of the Templars opened the door to Halla’na’s cage.

A low growl came from across the room. “Get away from her you bastards!” Apparently Tiny was up. Varric hoped the Bull would have enough sense not to pull anything stupid.

The lead Templar chuckled. “Inquisitor, your pet Qunari could use some manners.”

Varric peaked under his lashes to see one of the men drag Halla’na out of her cage by her long black hair.

“Try me, asshole!” Bull growled, pressed against the bars of his cage, hands still bound behind his back. The leader smiled back at him. His red eyes glowed earily under his pale blonde hair. He might have been attractive once, but the red lyrium lent him a sickly pallor with crystals just beginning to form under the crevices of his armor. In one smooth motion, brutally backhanded the elf across her face, knocking her to the ground. She cried out in pain and shock.

“They say that insubordination in the ranks reflects on the leadership, do they not? Of course, what could you expect from a little knife eared whore claiming at divinity?”

Halla’na whimpered from the ground and Varric wondered how much more he could take. Plan or no, he would not stand idly by while his friend and leader was hurt. Bull let out a low growl, but said no more. The dwarf could just picture Tiny looking the man up and down, visualizing a thousand different gruesome ways he might meet his end.

The leader chuckled again. “Come, Inquisitor. You have information we would be most interested to hear.”

“No! Please!” The Herald begged from the ground where she was cowering. “Please! I don’t know anything! I’m just a figurehead! Plea-”

A vicious kick caught her in the ribs and she gasped in pain.

Bull snarled against the bars.

“Cap’n said move, bitch,” spat the helmeted Templar who had doled out the kick.

“Bring her,” The captain walked out the door, waving casually behind his back.

Varric grit his teeth as two of the thugs grabbed Halla’na by her forearms and dragged her from the room. He waited till the door closed and he heard the chainmail steps of their captors recede down the hall.

Bull was cursing and pacing his cell when Varric got up and began fiddling with the lock on his door. “Easy there, Tiny,” he whispered to the Qunari, “Twitchy’s got a plan.”

Bull didn’t bother replying and kept pacing.

Suddenly, a tortured scream pierced the air followed with breathless sobbing and another scream.

“Vashedan! Hurry dwarf!” the warrior hissed as Varric ran to get the door of Bull’s cell. His hands shook as he fit the picks into the lock. He could hear Halla’na’s sobs and pleading and the answering jeers of the Templars.

“There!” Varric pulled the picks from the lock on the door as the Bull popped his thumb out of his socket and worked his way out of his cuffs. “Get our weapons out of the chest by the door while I get sparkler free!”

* * * * *

It took eight more minutes to get Dorian free and prepare all their weapons. Eight more minutes of listening to the strongest woman they knew scream and sob in agony as who knew what terrors were inflicted upon her. They moved out of the cells silently as a unit. Varric took down two Templars on Guard duty with eye shots as they stalked the halls, following the screams. Bull was clenching his axe with white knuckles as he kicked down the door leading to the final room.

Five of the six remaining Templars were gathered in a half circle, backs to the door, and there was Halla’na. She was kneeling on the ground, naked as the day she was born. Angry red welts and lines of blood striped across her back and she had a black eye. Tear tracks flowed down her face. The Leader was behind her, pulling her bound arms back with one hand and fiddling with his belt with the other.

The Bull roared as he tore into the room, axe coming down on the nearest Templar, neatly cleaving the man in two. During the distraction, Halla’na dropped her weight to the floor and yanked the chain holding her wrists together out of the grasp of the Templar captain.

Varric rushed in behind the Bull, desperate to get to the elf, but when he looked where she had been only seconds ago, all he saw was the Templar leader with a dagger through his eye.

* * * * *

The battle was over rather quickly. Most of the Templars had disarmed prior to coming to watch the ‘show,’ and those that still had their weapons were slow to draw and quickly cut down by the Bull and Varric. Even without the use of his magic, Dorian managed to cut down one man, running him through with the bladed end of his staff.

“Halla’na!” Varric shouted, searching frantically for the elf.

“Over here, guys.” A tired voice sounded from the corner by the door where the rogue appeared before their eyes as she slipped out of stealth. She was crouched in the corner, back against the wall with her arms thrown protectively over her chest. Maker, it was even worse up close. Blood still oozed sluggishly from her cheek where the gauntleted hand had carved into her face, her ribs were a mass of bruises, and the manacles had bitten deeply into the delicate skin of her wrists. Varric rushed toward her, arms outstretched, only to have her flinch away from him. He stopped instantly and she flinched again, looking down.

“Sorry . . .” she whispered quietly, “just, give me a moment.”

“Of course, Boss. Whatever you need.” Bull stepped forward as non-threateningly as he could, hands pain plain view and making no sudden movements. “Varric, why don’t you and Dorian go check the perimeter and make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” He shot the dwarf a look, telling him not to argue.

Dorian stepped forward cautiously, shrugging off the outer layer of his robe and setting it before the elf like an offering. “Here, my friend, I can’t say you’ll look as dashing in it as I do, but you never know.” Turning, he walked out of the dungeon, “Come, Varric. Let us check to see if any more of these damned Templars are around. I have some grievances I would like to discuss with them.”

Varric watched the mage leave before turning once again to the Iron Bull, handing him all the health poultices from his pack. “If you need anything, ANYTHING, shout. Ok?”

The Qunari nodded and the dwarf left.

* * * * *

The camp fire that night was a solemn affair. Bull had insisted on carrying Twitchy back to camp and she had been too exhausted from the combination of physical trauma and health potions to protest. Now, she sat numbly staring into the fire, blanket around her shoulders and a bowl of soup cooling in her lap. “Please don’t look at me like that, Dorian.”

Sparkler had been caught staring. He flushed, looking down. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t look at me with pity.” The Inquisitor turned to him. “Don’t look like I’m a victim. Like I’m some sort of great tragedy.”

“I am sorry, _amicus_ ” Dorian sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands “. . . It’s just, when I heard you screaming like that-”

“Dorian. . .” Bull’s voice came as a warning.

“No, Bull.” The elf cut in, “it’s OK.” She turned back to Dorian who fidgeted under her gaze. “The man who was torturing me was a sadist. He wanted a victim, something helpless he could hurt and break. I gave him what he wanted. If you’re already broken, sometimes they hurt you less.”

Looking around the circle, Varric couldn’t say who was most shocked by this revelation. “Halla’na . . . How did you kno-”

The Inquisitor twitched, retreating farther under her blanket and Varric stopped his question. “I . . . I wasn’t born Dalish.”

If her previous statement had shocked them, this one left them mute.

Halla’na took a deep breath. “I was born in Denerim as Kaili Tabris. I was an orphan by the time I was six. Growing up in the Alienage is not easy on orphans. I did what I had to do to survive.”

 

“But, you’re from the Free Marches!” Dorian exclaimed looking stricken. “You’re Dalish! How-” He seemed to catch himself , shaking his head and dropping his gaze. “Forgive me. I- it’s not my place.”

Silence reigned for a long time before the Herald spoke again. “Do any of you know what happened in Denerim’s Alienage during the fifth blight?”

Dorian and Bull looked at a loss. Varric had heard rumors, but he really hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was.

“There was a plague spreading through the population. Alienages are tiny with more bodies per square foot than ticks on a dog. Everyone was sick and the doors were sealed so there was no escape. I managed to avoid the illness, but it was only a matter of time. I watched as friends and neighbors got sicker and died. Bodies piled up in the streets because we were not allowed out of the city to bury the dead. I was certain the humans would leave us all to die. But then some mages came from Tevinter, sent by the Teryn to help us in our time of need. They saved some, healed others, and went through the population, putting those they deemed ‘at risk’ in quarantine. They claimed I was sick, even though I had no symptoms. I didn’t want to die, not like that, vomiting blood and choking on bile, so I allowed myself to be taken. It wasn’t until they had me caged with some elves they had taken earlier and claimed had died of the disease that I realized what was going on.”

Dorian looked like he was going to be ill and Bull’s knuckles were white, clenched in a fist.

“I’m told the Hero of Ferelden put a stop to the slaving operation in Denerim and used the evidence there to overthrow the Teryn who had sold his own subjects into slavery to pay for the war he waged against the Wardens and the Blight, but by that point I was already shackled on a ship bound for Tevinter.”

She turned to Dorian now, who couldn’t even meet her eyes, his own filled with shame. “You told me once that you thought slavery was a better solution. That elves in the Imperium received meals and board for a good day’s work and that must be preferable to languishing away in an Alienage. I can’t speak for everyone’s experiences, but I preferred the alienage. I was a person there.”

“They beat me, raped me, left me chained like a dog below deck, denied me food and water. They said they wanted to have me ‘broken’ for my master when I was inevitably sold.”

“I came to the Dalish by luck. While off the coast of the Free Marches near Ostwick, the ship ran into a storm and wrecked against the rocky shore. I was lucky. I was above deck at the time because one of the officers wanted to ‘make use’ of me. I don’t know how many drowned in their cells, chained to the floor of the ship, but only a hand full of us made it ashore alive. Clan Lavellan had been passing by when they saw the storm and decided to wait and see what became of the ship.

“The Dalish have never taken kindly to slavers of any kind, and any who survived were instantly shot down by a cloud of Elven arrows. When I washed ashore, they cared for me. The keeper brought me to their camp and tended my wounds. Having nowhere else to go, I decided to stay with them.”

“Well . . . shit.” Varric couldn’t help himself. What do you say to something like that?

Halla’na cringed, drawing further under the blanket.

“Boss,” the Bull’s voice cut across the fire as he shot a quick glare at the dwarf then turned back to the Inquisitor, “This doesn’t change anything. We don’t think any differently of you.”

“Shit Twitchy! I didn’t mean it like that!” Varric exclaimed realizing she had taken his statement as judgement. “I mean, Damn! I knew you were strong before, but now . . . you must be the toughest woman in Thedas!”

She smiled back at him weakly. It was a small forced gesture and Varric resolved that tomorrow, he would make her smile for real, but now was not the time. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and when she leaned into the gesture, he squeezed her into a tight embrace.

Dorian scooted over sheepishly, still staring at the floor. “I don’t know what to say, except that I’m sorry if I have caused you distress in the past through my ignorance, and I am here with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Halla’na said nothing, but offered him a hand and pulled him closer when he took it.

Bull moved to sit on the log next to Varric and stared into the fire in silence for a while. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time the Chargers and I took a job where we had to impersonate a circus troop?” The Qunari began his yarn that each member of the group had heard at least three times before, but no one made a move to stop him. Perhaps everyone just needed a little normalcy, or perhaps a distraction from darker thoughts. As the night wore on and the exhausted Inquisitor drifted off against Varric’s shoulder, each member of the group resolved that they would never allow their friend to live through something like that again.

**Author's Note:**

> And, if anyone is wondering, she always keeps her lock picks braided into her hair. (The past left her a bit paranoid and twitchy)
> 
> Also, amicus means friend


End file.
